


Nurse

by Starlithorizon



Series: Molly Hooper, Deliverer of Souls [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, The Great Nurse Hooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys fall ill, and Molly picks them back up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nurse

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, since most of the series has been kinda angsty (and, to be fair, it's not THAT angsty...), here's some fluff. Yup.

The men were each sprawled out on the sofa, which was significantly less ridiculous than one would assume, what with John's small stature and Sherlock's habit of filling up every empty space. They fit together in a way that very nearly didn't make sense, but then, they _were_  JohnandSherlock. A faintly absurd creature that was half brain, half heart, and all bravery, loyalty, and kindness. Or maybe stupidity.

Regardless, it made sense to Molly, in a nonsensical sort of way, that these two men who willingly spent so much time together would contract the same disease at the same time. Of course, logically, it was the most average thing there was, but it had to have had some special meaning because they were one entity.

Neither of them was a very good patient. Doctors were notorious for it, and Sherlock was always insufferable when he was physically unable to so what he wanted. Luckily for Molly, Mycroft couldn't possibly get away, and Mrs. Hudson was visiting her sister. That left _her_  in charge of babysitting the children and nursing them back to health.

 _Great_.

As a pathologist who worked in a hospital, a reliable woman whose friends frequently called on her when ill, and plenty of experience in dealing with sick younger siblings, she really was perfect for the job. Especially considering the fact that she had cared for Sherlock before when he'd nearly gotten hypothermia from yet another dive into the Thames while John was away at a conference. She knew how to deal with him, more or less.

She arrived at their flat bearing small gifts (a small stuffed animal for each of them, several quietly funny movies, books on corpses and old crimes and Venetian dukes) and a steel immune system that made her invaluable to sick friends.

She quietly set about moving the coffee table out of the way, inflating a lilo in the middle of the sitting room, and piling it with more blankets and pillows than one should ever count. She gently led the men to the lilo and got them settled with a movie ( _Roman Holiday_ ) before making them each a mug of weak tea and setting buckets near each of their heads. Once they were comfortable and within easy reach of the box of tissues, she left them just long enough to run to the Tesco down the street.

Upon her return, she found Sherlock sleeping, cuddled up against John like a child. John smiled wanly before going back to sleep himself. She bustled about in the kitchen, careful to make as little noise as possible.

Yes, Molly was a wonder to sick friends. She made just the right sorts of food (how she knew John's favourite comfort foods, he'll never know), cleaned up the flat (both men would swear up and down that it had never been cleaner, and they would be right), and made their lives as easy as possible. For days, she arrived early in the morning, made sure they were comfortable and content, bustled about making happy noises and granted every silly wish the men had, and left late at night. She did, in fact, use vacation days to care for the boys.

When they were fully recovered and everything was back to normal, Molly noticed a few nice things: she had a full month of vacation time (before, she'd only had about a week left), her own fridge was stocked with her favorite foods (creepy, but nice all the same), and there was a note left on her desk. It was a simple thank-you, in Mycroft's neat, precise hand. They were, in fact, friends, but it was always nice to have confirmation like this.

As for the boys? Well, Sherlock had been so much kinder to her since The Fall, but after this, he went out of his way to be nice to her. Not in an obvious way, mind you, but in a Sherlock way. He made sure she got the most interesting corpses (which he got parts of, naturally), and on three separate occasions she found little gifts from him on her desk. He still acted the same way toward her, but there was so much more warmth and kindness in his smile than she had ever seen before.

She liked to think that Sherlock had always been one of her friends, but she loved knowing that she was one of _his_  friends. He knew she cared, and he didn't use her for it. He was friends with her because he trusted her, because she believed in him.

Although she never did get her movies back.


End file.
